The Staff of One has returned to its proper place — that being somewhere inside Nico, apparently. It was reabsorbed into her body about the same time that Hope suggested going to the diner. She hasn't been to this place before, but, at first glance anyway, it appears very similar to any of a hundred diners she's seen over the years — mostly with her parents.
And that thought is rapidly pushed out of her mind. This is a GOOD night. She has friends. And they saved some poor girl from a murderer. Okay, Devil-Man did a lot of the work, but they did their part too!
She's humming to herself as they enter. The song got some radio play back in California, before she left. She hasn't heard it since. "The Hulk is a monster who is ugly, oversized and green…" Yeah, far from the greatest song in the world — but she is feeling happy and good about herself tonight, and life is way better than it was a few days ago.
*
In one of the booths towards the rear of the diner is none other than Tommy — he'd planned to meet Hope at the diner that the team tends to frequent tonight for dinner, and is already in the process of waving in her direction as he spots… "Nico?" The name is mouthed more than said, especially from the distance… but he won't argue it. Instead, he's waving the pair over.
There's already two menus set out, and as quick as one can blink a third one joins it. Because at his speeds? Few people notice, and the waitress working has long accepted being a bit forgetful about how many of what she brings.
He's dressed simply enough, the familiar jacket over a shirt and jeans; the boy dresses for comfort and style more than cold; he has other ways of keeping warm when necessary, afterall.
*
Diners match up pretty much everywhere in America, serving up apple pie worth calling about, coffee that went through a filter of dirt, and not much else. Except for those miracles called French fries, which remain a mystery for her save they somehow combine crunch and soft squishiness. Food is, for her, an absolute necessity in ways Nico and Lorna can't quite appreciate. Mirroring a speedster generally hurts. Moreso when he's in proximity and her genetic code hungrily latches on.
"He sounds like a dinosaur," says the teenager, shrugging her shoulders. No sign of the weirdness about them satisfies her plenty. "I wasn't planning on taking that car. More like running down the guy with it if he kept harrassing her, and Mr. Pajama Pants didn't show up." Sliding up to the table, she leans over and plants a kiss on Tommy's pale hair. "Hi."
*
Devil-Man," Nico corrects. "I'm sure he must call himself Devil-Man. Hi, Tommy." Her song is forgotten. Just as well. Nico is not a great singer. She probably could be, with the right spell, but she'll save that for next time she has to take somebody's place at the Met. She plops into the booth across from Tommy and picks up the menu to examine. "I really didn't think you were gonna steal the car 'til that other girl brought it up," she assures Hope.
"
*
"Devil-Man? Pajama Pants?" Tommy echoes, sliding over as Hope presses her lips to his head — leaving his arm behind him for her to sit in front of. "Sounds like you girls had an interesting night out there. Some new club that I'm not aware of, or something like that?" the speedster asks, poking through the menu with his free hand. "…/and/ stealing cars?" Pause. "Well. Gotta get home somehow, I guess." he quips, clearly amused.
*
"She gets weird ideas sometimes. I don't know what to think of her. Sometimes she seems all put together and then she goes wonky." Drawing a circle in the air with a single digit, Hope squishes herself into the booth beside Tommy rather than take sides on Team Girl.
Raised eyebrows almost make her look innocent. "I totally know how to drive. I piloted a …ship. A few ships. One even had sails, one time." Ambiguity never hurt anyone in these cases, not the least because the eavesdroppers might not really understand rocket technology as far as she knows it, or believe she rode a horse through gunfire and shouted something nasty at Paul Revere. Maybe not quite Paul Revere, but definitely some cad causing a lot of racket. "Devil-Man beat up a guy trying to stab a girl. We did not permit the stabbing to take place."
*
"Yeah. We did our part, too," says Nico. "The beating occurred after we did our part. Poor girl was terrified. Do you think it's too late for pancakes?" Pancakes seem like a fantastic after-battle sort of food. And living in Chinatown she hasn't really had access to them regularly. She is going to have to discuss the state of the cupboards with Xiang. Or whatever her name is.
Possibly discuss through charades.
Maybe just buy some Jiffy mix and milk.
*
Hope gets a long look as she speaks before he settles on… "Lorna was out there with you too, wasn't she?" … because really, most of the /other/ girls Tommy knows are pretty stable in the mental side of things. Whereas Lorna… the poor thing's had a rough few weeks, especially since Seth's abduction a while back. Maybe months is even more appropriate, when he thinks about it.
"Good thing you know how to drive, Hope. My d-the doc was talking about maybe getting us a truck for a house-warming present. I… kinda never had a reason to learn, 'cause. Well. You know."
Then the story is told and Tommy's left grinning ear to ear. "Well. If I ain't sitting with some big damn heroes, then." There's a glance over to Hope, a nod towards Nico, then a questioning look. Silent couple code? Maybe. Either way, he's trying to flag the waitress down.
"They make anything on the menu at any hour of the night, Nico. That's one of the reasons Hope and I love it. /Plus,/ they'll put up with any crazy concoction you can think of. Like layering bacon between your pancakes. Protip: It's really, really good."
*
"Yeah." Hope takes up her station on the table, her elbows planted, chin resting on the bridge of her hands. "You aren't. No hero here, but I nearly threw a typewriter at the guy so that was good. Better someone other than me did that, otherwise it might be… you know."
When the waitress comes past, the order is pretty straightforward: cup of black coffee, milkshake, waffle, strawberries, more strawberries, whipped cream. And French fries first. The poor waitress probably has questions to ask.
*
"I just made his knife fall apart. Rust to dust." Nico smiles at this, a little amused. "It did the trick, certainly. And the girl's okay. Though…" She glances at Hope. "We were all gone before the police got there. Are they just gonna let him back on the street if nobody's there to explain WHY he got beat up?"